Pitch Me a Story
by Intervigilium
Summary: Challenge Fic. Contestants had 24 hours to write 1500 words about "Quidditch". The person that challenged me wrote: /s/10222060/1/Love-Won-t-Bring-Us-Together-but-Quidditch-Might


**DISCLAIMER**: You know I don't own these characters.

_**l. Pitch-Black**_

It was perfect nightfall; not a cloud in sight, and the moon and first stars so strong, even at this hour, that one would have little doubt believing magic actually pulsed in that land.

Andromeda ran a hand over the smooth wooden surface of the door, leading to a lower section of stands. That she adored the warm, clean feel of woodwork only made her feel even more of an outsider in her family. The Blacks, like many pure-blood families, seemed practically 'forged' in precious metals. And like such, very cold.

She surveyed the perfectly trimmed field; how no speck of sand seemed out of place under the golden hoops. Still adjusting to the disappearing sun, her eyes spotted a moving shadow. Thirty meters above the standard 'playing field', someone flew in timed waves along the edges of the Pitch.

Up and down he went, scanning the stands once, twice, before he found her. She made no effort to speed his search by making any sort of signal; not only was it beautiful to watch him fly, but even from those heights she could feel his smile broaden the second he spotted her. _That_ smile was all hers, and Andromeda did her best to enjoy each one as much as possible.

Ted Tonks barely took a breath between dismounting the broom and running towards the Slytherin girl. A hand enveloped her waist and the other caressed her neck as he pressed his lips against hers, and felt her smiling into the kiss.

"You're covered in sweat," she half-complained, half-giggled.

"You're late," he countered, reaching for her lips yet again.

"Cissy ... would not ... mmm ... let me out of the Common Room." She firmly placed a hand on his chest to catch her breath. "And had you chosen a more convenient location, we'd be together sooner."

"True. But this is quiet, secluded, and if the sweat bothers you that much, there are showers in the team locker rooms," he winked.

Andromeda really wished he'd stop creating these mental pictures. And she REALLY wished she could stop her own mind from going further into those scenarios.

He smoothed her hair behind her ear, bringing Andromeda back to reality. "You mentioned your sister. Do you still believe she knows?"

"I'm sure she suspects quite a bit. Bella hasn't been very subtle about her inquiries, either."

"And you're not a very good liar." He smiled.

"I don't want to be." She looked directly at him, then down at her feet, rubbing his forearm. "I just want things to be easier." And then her voice was barely a whisper, "I'm happy. Why can't my family be happy for me? Why can't they be happy _with_ me?"

Slightly rough hands closed around hers, leading them to Ted's chest. Feeling his heartbeats, she looked up to see _her_ smile there, waiting for her. Just for her.

"What?"

"You said you're happy."

She couldn't help smiling back. "Well ... I am."

The kiss Ted gave her in response deserved a frame, a name of its own. It carried a scent, a rush that had only been previously hinted at, even when their lips first met.

Ted Tonks. Muggleborn. Quidditch lover. Outspoken and kind. Basically, just about everything she was taught to despise, all wrapped into a stubborn, smiling package.

And she loved him. She loved the way he made her feel.

_Oh, you are in so much trouble, Andromeda Black._

It took another kiss. Then, the trouble didn't seem to matter that much.

_**ll. The Unbearable Lightness of Firewhisky**_

"This is not helping, Charlie."

"You didn't drink enough, Nym."

One of her eyebrows shot up. "Drinking way more than you, light-weight."

He laughed. "Hey, traditions are traditions. Loser buys the drinks."

"It's not a tradition, Charlie, we only started doing this last year."

"Are we still doing it this year?"

After a brief silence, she took a long swig of the bottle. "Point taken. Still waiting for the silver lining, Charlie."

"Well, there isn't one, really. I'm afraid that as long as Gryffindor's spectacular Seeker is around, Hufflepuff's pink-haired Chaser and her valiant efforts will continue to pay the tab."

She shoved him, knocking him from the bench but unable to make the boy stop laughing. He had a point, though; Hufflepuff lacked a quality Seeker for years now. And even a decent one wouldn't find a way to beat Charlie Weasley up there.

"You'll see. Next year I'll blow a hole through that scoreboard. It'll be so big that it won't matter if you catch the bloody Snitch."

"That sounds an awful lot like a threat, Tonks."

"A _promise_, Weasley."

"I was under the impression you'd be up to your neck in books to become an Auror. How will you find the time to beat me?"

"Still enough talent from the neck up to run circles around you. I'll be fine," and then she waved her hand, knocking over the bottle.

"I can see that."

"Oh, bugger off." And then she looked at the remains inside the bottle. "How do you manage to score these, anyway? Giving Madam Rosmerta a little 'help' during the Hogsmeade trips?"

"Nym! The woman could be my _mother_!"

"Oh, I'm positive she'd be thrilled to call you 'daddy'..."

"Agh, what is wrong with you!?" and he raised his hands to cover his face, trying to erase the mental picture, while Tonks burst into even more laughter.

"You love me, Charlie Weasley, and you know it," she said between slower fits of giggling.

_If only you knew how much, Nym._

But Charlie had been at that inner debate many times now to act.

_Friends._

_Only friends._

_Stop trying to guess what color her knickers are._

_You need help, mate._

Noises close-by drove Charlie away from those thoughts – and just in time, since Tonks was about to question his glazed eyes.

"Everyone was supposed to be gone by now," she mused, peeking over the railings to scan the pitch. "It's been a while since the game ended."

Both teenagers spotted a giggling couple, holding hands and making 'shhh' noises to each other. They approached one of the three hoop poles and the boy pinned the girl against it, with no resistance.

"Is that Amy Kendrick?"

"Looks like her. And that would be William Rees. Beats for Ravenclaw, right?"

"Wow. The sneaky little – she never told me they were seeing each other!"

"A lot more than seeing, it seems," he agreed, starting to feel uncomfortable watching the couple. _I don't need ideas right now._

"Indeed. At this pace, tonight he'll be able to say: "Well, you already know William. Meet Willy"."

He paused, forcefully closing his eyes shut, and turned in Tonks' general direction. "You do understand I have a brother named William, don't you?"

"Yes," and the mirth was barely contained in her voice.

"Are you **trying** to make me unable to look him in the eye ever again? Besides, what are you, _six_? Who says ... ?"

Tonks pulled him under the railing, urging him to be quiet – not that her giggling helped in any way.

"They'll hear us!"

"And what exactly is the plan? Keep watching?"

Tonks was quiet after that, to the point where Charlie had to open his eyes again. And there she was, with a funny look on her face.

"What?"

_Nothing, Charlie. It's not like I want to scream something inappropriate to scare those two off and have the place to ourselves. It's not like I want to kiss you, or you to kiss me, or us to – oh, you get the point. Well, no, you don't. You're so __**clueless**__, Charlie._

"You're right, we should give them some privacy." She got up with surprising quietness, considering she was Tonks. The couple was still oblivious to the rest of the world, so sneaking out wasn't going to be a problem.

"And get some privacy of our own," he mumbled, following her lead, much like he always did.

As they left the Pitch, and Tonks screamed to the top of her lungs "HAVE FUN, YOU TWO!" (causing Amy and William to jump and race for the locker rooms, and Charlie to nearly fall on his knees laughing), both looked at each other and walked back silently to the castle.

_One of these days, Dora._

_One of these days, Charlie._

_**lll. Phyxius**_

"There you are."

Teddy Lupin looked up from the locker room floor, grinning.

"You never have much trouble finding me."

"That's because you always come to the same place when you want to be alone," Victoire said.

"So, if you knew I wanted to be alone ... ?"

She waved her hand dismissively. "Being alone only makes sense if you don't have good company. And I'm _excellent_ company."

Teddy laughed. "That, you are."

Smiling, Victoire sat down on the floor next to him. She pulled one of his arms over her shoulders to snuggle in, swung her legs over his lap and pecked his cheek. He returned the affectionate gesture by placing his lips on her forehead, and letting them linger there.

Knowingly, she reached for a pocket in his chest. The same picture was always there: his parents and him, a newborn baby.

"Your mother was so beautiful."

"Yeah. Grandma says I got her nose," he chuckled.

"She looks so happy, holding you." Then, she forced Teddy to look at her. "I know that you make them proud every day."

A lump formed in his throat. He tried to push it back down. "Do you mean that?"

Victoire tilted her head, kissing him gently. "Of course." She wanted to call him silly, but knew better than that. Of all the trials Teddy went through in his life, she knew today would be one of those days where he'd miss his parents the most: his Leaving Ceremony. Last day at Hogwarts.

"So what do I do without your marvelous company next year?" he asked her, forcing some much needed casualty to the conversation.

_Always dodging, this one._

"Oh, you'll manage. Just barely, but you will. Ooh, which reminds me, your gift arrived!"

"Victoire, you shouldn't ha ..."

"_Shhh!_ Did you open your locker already?"

"Why would I? I cleaned it up weeks ago after the last game."

"Oh, you may have left something here," she mused. "You always forget things."

Teddy looked at Victoire, not even venturing a guess. He pulled the wand from his pocket, tapped the locker to his right, and saw a long, thin package push the door forward. He caught it before it fell down.

The girl couldn't hold a smile. "_Maman_ and _Papa_ have a friend that makes these, a truly special craft. When he visited us last summer for dinner, I knew I had to give you one someday."

He started to say her name in protest, only to have her tiny hands waving around in his face.

"Stop being so noble and accept it already! _Allez, ouvrez-le_!"

Her enthusiasm was such, that Teddy had no choice but to open the package carefully, finding a beautiful broomstick inside. He didn't have to know a lot about brooms to know that Victoire was right: this was a magnificent piece, clearly well-tended and cared for during manufacture.

She pointed at the handle. "Look, I had it named. And I made the sigil myself," she added proudly.

"_Phyxius_. What does it mean?"

"Puts to flight," she said simply. "It's one of the meanings, but the one I liked best."

"Why?"

"It's because I wanted something that would protect you. Every time you feel lonely, or sad, I want you to fly and scare those thoughts away. I want you to remember that your mother and grandfather didn't give you only that beautiful nose; they gave you _wings_."

"They gave you wings to fight prejudice, and difficulties, and never give up on what you really want. They didn't. And you won't, either."

Ted kept staring from the name on the broomstick to the girl beaming at his side.

"I don't really deserve you, do I?"

"That's for me to decide, Teddy."

"I don't know what to say," he croaked, caressing her cheek. She put her hand over his, squeezing it.

"Well, the Pitch is just outside that door, and this is your last day here," she said, winking. Victoire got up, picked up the broom and waited for Teddy to stand.

"Say you'll fly, Teddy."

**AUTHOR NOTE**: Written for a challenge. Contestants had 24 hours to write 1500 words with the ingredient "Quidditch".


End file.
